smart-town noir

downtown in the dead of night.

the abandoned
streets seem to whisper among themselves.

a light rain has fallen
so the atmospheric stage is set
for its final performance.

I'm on my own

and the heels of my shoes

quicken their pace, when––

from behind a streetlamp 

an assailant invades 

the unoccupied dimension between
my shadow and me, seizing

the pliable material 

at the collar of my trench coat, 

pinning me against the granite wall
below its chiseled declaration proclaiming:

“The People’s University.”

the assailant's fists tighten
their grip at the Adam’s apple

pushing the crumpled collar upward,

pressing into the scrawny neck

to the boney base of the jaw, dimming the narrow
corridor reserved for consciousness, sneering

to within an inch of my face..

“Okay, punk!....Copland or Ives”?